


Don't Swim

by whisksandplungers



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: might be upsetting for people with anxiety or depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisksandplungers/pseuds/whisksandplungers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am out to sea and alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Swim

I know. 

I know what I have done, please don’t remind me, for I am a fragile one.

I do not need your reminder stuck in my eye with a drawing pin, for it already hits me in waves. Not the lassitude of Margate waves, where toddlers slip and are gently rolled by the water, then rise again wet and shamed, with it soon disregarded for a compensatory ice cream. No. These are the waves of South Africa; unrelenting and impossible to the ice creamed toddler. Even in their sighs of the night their unrelenting subjugation kicks fear into your lungs. For a moment, for an imperceptible, unforgettable moment, you genuinely think you’re going to die. Of course your heart jumps to the stars in protest, but otherwise it’s just a null realisation that leaves you blank faced and blank hearted. People think that in that moment you get a lungful of regret, but it’s really not true. It’s incredible how impassive you really feel. Of course no one ever admits to it because death and fear is meant to be prodigious but it’s not, is it? It’s really quite common. At least, I don’t think I’m the only one who feels like this (Please tell me I’m not alone.) No, it is not a lungful of regret; you don’t really think of all the things you could have done; it is a lungful of vile water because the sea is all around and the dirt chokes your eyes so you cannot see your life just then. But then it is not fear either really, because what would be the point? And it is not the sigh after the test, it is not the gaze at the beauty of the world, and it is not the pull of your heart from across the globe for _them_. I am sorry, for I can only explain what it is not, for only if you know this moment can you perceive (but never understand) the ladder of meaning as deep as the sky. 

But then suddenly you’re breaching the intangible surface and the fear floods back into your skin, and you emerge supposedly carnelian. They rub their calcite into your brain but it is smooth and the water does not stick and they offer you tea and check that you’re ok, then they push you off back to the land of the living alone on a boat with no sail and oars that splinter to the touch, and expect you to find a way to walk or run along the roads as if your limbs are not drenched with fear. And perhaps you do find a lane; quiet, winding, with komorebi, that leads you only to more lane and more bends and more winding. Or perhaps you find a motorway that hurtles you towards safety, but you can barely catch your breath to arrive. And people think that the motorway is the effective, sensible, appropriate way (we’ll ignore the inhumanity of it all). Or people think that the lane will lead to somewhere but I know, I know that no matter how far inland I go, the coast will always be waiting for me on the other side of a cliff, or bank, or maybe a gentle slope. It doesn’t matter which for my island is eroding faster than I can build my mountain (for that is what I need), so still my tide comes to swallow me. Except it is too strong to let me go.

He was right. This is all there is. Fear. And I’m drowning in it.

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally posted something! Yay!  
> I don't really know what this is. A stylised internal monologue I suppose. Inspired by Jem Walker's situation. A bit depressing. Apologies.  
> I've possibly been a bit lax with my choice of words at times, occasionally opting for something a bit too allusive in meaning, so I would really appreciate feedback since this is the first piece I've posted.  
> But to be honest, if you're reading this I'm already chuffed to bits! :)


End file.
